


inter nos (Between Ourselves)

by Mossgreen



Series: 2770 ab urbe condita [16]
Category: 2770 ab urbe condita - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Conversations, Friendship, M/M, Master/Slave, Non-Sexual Slavery, Referenced non-con due to slavery, Sexual Slavery, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 09:09:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15682356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossgreen/pseuds/Mossgreen
Summary: Ven is having one of those days and just needs a friendly ear.(No smut; the m/m is referenced/implied... Category tags are due to the rating/focus of the series as a whole.)





	inter nos (Between Ourselves)

Ven was drowsing against his master's knee while he watched another episode of... whatever interminable nonsense was on the television tonight. Some stupid comedy show or other with two bickering slaves and a hopelessly naïve son who was equally hopelessly in love with some completely unsuitable young woman. Sounded like Plautus or Terence... Not, thankfully, _Amici_ , on yet another one of the endless repeats. That show had been hugely popular some twenty years ago and now it was repeated ad nauseam on practically every channel with breaks for the news, weather and maybe, occasionally, for an episode of a decent detective drama – Falco was Ven's favourite, not that he really ever got to see any episodes of that right through to the showdown unless Master was in a spectacularly good mood.

“Pet.”

The single word brought Ven awake fully and he lifted his head as the television winked off. “Master?”

“While I am seeing my _clientes_ tomorrow morning, you will book us a flight to Britannia, and a hotel for a week. I have a business conference to attend in Londinium, and the new flagship store will be opening in Aquae Sulis during my time there. Ensure the hotel allows slaves to sleep in the same suite as their owners, some do not. I will leave complete instructions and an itinerary on the desk.”

“Yes, Master.”

* * *

It was easy enough to navigate the booking systems, when it came down to it, but Ven ran into a problem when he wanted to pay for it. _Not authorised to pay_ flashed up on the payment screen, which was greyed out anyway. Ven knelt back and swore colourfully. There was no getting around it; if his master hadn't entered into the system that the slave Ven was permitted to spend his master's money on his master's behalf, then Ven couldn't finalise the booking.

He pulled his tunic on and went to see if he could find his master. 

His master, it transpired, had finished seeing his _clientes_ , gone out and was expected to be out for most of the day.

“It can't be business,” Ven said to Willow, who had told him this. “It's getting to the point where he makes sure I go with him, if it's business. Depending on what it is, of course.”

“What did you want him for?”

Ven sighed, and raked his fingers through his hair. “There are days I bloody hate that registration system, Willow.”

“Is it fucking up again? It's a damn big thing, of course it's going to freeze at times.”

Ven sighed again. “No, it's doing _precisely_ what it's supposed to, and that's the whole problem. Master hasn't changed my details to authorise me to make any payments on his behalf, and he's left me to book him a business trip to Britannia. Without being able to pay for it.”

“Ah. I could...” Willow rubbed his ear.

“You _could_. And then I'd be in exactly the same position next time, probably without you being around to help out. No, I need to let Master know and ask that he change my authorisation in the system. I can only hope that the information I've got is still valid by the time I can arrange payment for it all.”

“It's in his own best interests to get it done quickly, then.” Willow looked more closely at his fellow slave. “How are you doing, in yourself, Ven? We don't see much of you these days.”

Ven gave a humourless laugh. “You should stop by Master's room some time – any excuse will do. You'll see more of me than you ever wanted, I'm sure.”

“We've shared the showers with you for the past... year or so. I think we know what you look like.”

Ven sighed. “Let's not talk about it here. Somewhere a little more private, perhaps?”

“The garden?”

The garden it was. They found a bench out of the way and sat down, Ven a little more gingerly than Willow, who tried to ignore the way his fellow slave's prick was tenting his tunic.

“Oh, sod it, Willow, you don't have to pretend,” Ven burst out, quietly, making a quick aborted gesture towards his groin and the tented tunic. “He gets off on it, for some damn reason I will never understand. I don't mind the usual stupid things free people say and do, but he seems to feed off, oh, I don't know.” He sighed and shrugged. “It doesn't even help trying to remember that 'it could be worse'. Sometimes.”

There was a pause while Willow tried to come up with a reply.

Ven took a breath and let it out, slowly. “I'm sorry. He's like it to everyone in the house, to some degree, only I seem to get it in larger doses. Or more concentrated doses. And there isn't an answer, of course there isn't, because he's the master and, well. You get used to the low-level stuff free people do without thinking about it, but what Master does is a whole new level of... fucked-up.” He raked his fingers through his hair and repeated his apology. “I'm sorry. You don't need me bitching about something that can't be helped. You and I both know there are worse masters to be owned by.”

“I don't... wait there.” 

Ven didn't have time to blink before Willow had got up, disappearing in the direction of the kitchen. He leaned his head back against the wall for a moment, letting the tension out as he breathed, just taking pleasure in the breathing and the warm sun on his face, and the scent of lavender and mint from the carefully-tended garden. 

“I _thought_ Cook had done some baking,” Willow said, returning a few minutes later with a chipped plate. “I pinched these, they got scorched and couldn't be saved, but they'll be fine if you ignore the burnt bits.” 

He set the plate down on the bench between them. “Honey cakes, the way you like them... well, perhaps a little blacker than you prefer,” he added, nudging the plate toward Ven fractionally, indicating that he should take the first one.

“Not like Cook to burn food,” Ven said, helping himself.

“We all have our off days,” Willow said. “Though I think Master has rather fewer since, well,” he indicated Ven, a little uncomfortably.

“Mmm,” Ven said, through a mouthful. “You're right. I'm whining about something we can't change, either of us. Honey cakes are a good answer to that, though. Thanks for... reminding me there're better things to think about.”

They sat eating in companionable silence for a while, until the plate was empty of all but the very worst of the burnt bits.

“So, how do you...?” Willow began, uncertainly.

Ven shrugged. “I'll deal with it, the way I always deal with it, the way any of us deal with. Because I have to, because... Well, I'll live.”

“I'm sorry I...”

Ven put his hand over Willow's as it rested on the sun-warmed marble of the bench. “Don't be, it's nobody's fault except Master's. I just needed to blow off some frustration, that's all. Can't keep that bottled in forever, let's face it.”

“You wouldn't explode at the master. Self-preservation, if nothing else.”

“No, but I might end up breaking something in his rooms, and that'd have about the same result for my back. So I'd rather vent to you; it's a lot safer in the end. Plus I get surprise honey cakes, and that can't be bad. And you can say the word, you know. Citizens have had _concubīni_ since, oh, I don't know when. I just wish our master didn't like using me for his damn video tutorials, that's all.”

“Always look on the bright side of life, Ven. Though, somehow, you always do.”

Ven leaned back, looking thoughtful. “Although, if it means he's less short-tempered now, I'm glad. I think. I... He's never hit me, at least. Never hit anyone, unless he's started slapping folks around now I'm kept in his rooms and not around to see him do it. Well, I mean, he's never slapped me, like free people do when they get irritated.”

“No, you're right. He's never done that, to anyone. And I don't think he's going to start now; he does seem to be in a better temper these days.”

There were only crumbs and charcoal fragments left on the plate now, and Ven stretched. “I suppose I ought to be getting back; he's going to be annoyed enough that I haven't been able to do what I was supposed to do, without being absent from his room, too.”

Willow picked the plate up. “Will we see you at dinner?”

“I have no idea,” Ven replied, getting to his feet. “I think so – or at least, I haven't been told otherwise, yet.” He gave his fellow-slave a shrug and a small smile, and headed back towards their master's room.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Amici_ is, of course, Friends, although this universe's version of it. Don't ask me who all the characters ended up being! _Falco_ is a reference to Lyndsey Davies' incredible Falco novel series, featuring a detective ('informer') in first-century Rome. I highly recommend them, if you haven't come across them already.
> 
>  _Britannia_ : Modern-day Britain – actually, 'Britannia' corresponds more-or-less exactly with modern England. (Caledonia is Scotland; Hibernia is Ireland (the entire island, Northern Ireland and Eire both), Cambria is Wales). England only got the name thanks to the Angles, who invaded along with the Saxons and Jutes in the fifth century, in our own timeline. _Londinium_ : modern London. _Aquae Sulis_ : modern Bath. Naturally, in a world where the Roman Empire never fell, towns would be known by their Roman names. (Point of interest: in complete contrast to the American way of thinking, where every large town is a city, the Romans only had one city in the entire Empire: Rome. Every other settlement, of whatever size, was an oppidum, a town.)
> 
> Translation Notes: _ad nauseum_ : literally 'to the point of nausea' (this phrase is still in use today). _clientes_ : clients – usually ex-slaves and poorer hangers-on who did did things for a citizen in return for certain benefits of the patron's network or status (perhaps a craftsman might be recommended to one of the patron's friends, in return for that client's support when the patron stood for election... and no, I haven't yet worked out how elections work in this version of Imperial Rome!). _concubīnus_ : a male concubine or bed-slave. _concubīnae_ , female concubines, weren't necessarily slaves, but the male version were. (YES, there is an actual Latin word for a male bed-slave! See [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homosexuality_in_ancient_Rome#Concubinus) for more - NSFW Wiki article)
> 
> This story leads on directly to [this one](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15723726)


End file.
